


housed by your warmth (i was transformed)

by slitheredherefromeden



Series: we made a garden of the love we found [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slitheredherefromeden/pseuds/slitheredherefromeden
Summary: “It’s simple really,” you explain, adding a spoonful of sugar to your coffee, the metal clinking the side of your mug. “When we’re together, we’re together. When we’re not, we’re not.”





	housed by your warmth (i was transformed)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve chosen not to tag two people who are clearly implied to be in this story. One, I’ve decided not to tag as she is not a public figure and I apparently draw the line there. The other isn’t around long enough.
> 
> I know this won’t be for everyone, but I hope someone enjoys it. 
> 
> Big thanks to those who read this over for me!

Your sister doesn’t understand it.

“It’s simple really,” you explain, adding a spoonful of sugar to your coffee, the metal clinking the side of your mug. “When we’re together, we’re together. When we’re not, we’re not.”

Jordan looks dubious, unconvinced that this could work for either of you. You don’t know if you have the words to explain why it does, not sure the logic would even make sense to someone who isn’t you or Scott.

You spend most of your time together anyway. Skating or poring over business plans or catching a meal or watching a movie. You hold hands like it’s nothing special (this weird hand hold you think the two of you created so that it felt new again). You kiss like you did when you were teenagers. You fuck like the adults you are, the both of you in the best shape of your life and twenty odd years of love coursing through your veins. 

Your time apart is no less thrilling to you. You do work for your online courses, you take jobs that don’t include him, you take vacations with your mom and your sister, you visit your brothers and your niece. You read a million books that you never had the time to read before. You take Pilates and barre and yoga and cycling classes. You go sit in cafes and enjoy the act of being still for exactly thirty minutes before you dive head first into something else because you’re still not used to having time.

You go to a dance class and invite yourself over to a guy’s house who you’ve known casually since you started living in Montreal three years ago. He doesn’t know your body at all and instead of annoying you, it feels exhilarating.

Jordan’s jaw works and you can see her thinking everything over in her head. “Do… Do you guys tell each other what you do when you’re apart?”

“Sometimes,” you answer with a shrug. There are times where it’s a casual mention, a blip in their catching up, other times it’s in the form of a condom, test results not cleared by the time you regroup together. Sometimes it’s grunted in your ear or moaned into his, details so explicit it would make anyone blush, and your orgasms hit harder than they have any right to.

Maybe there’s something wrong with the two of you. But you’re happy so you’re not going to question it.

—

He’s cooking dinner and you’re having a glass of wine and a square of chocolate (he teased you about having dessert before dinner and you kissed him until you were breathless and he licked chocolate from his lips). He’s in the middle of a story about the consulting coaching he’s doing. You hang on his every word, feel completely wrapped up in his retelling.

His brother calls right after he feeds you a spoonful of sauce. Speakerphone turned on, you chat with Charlie and the kids that eventually run by. You laugh and make plans and you feel settled.

After the call and after you tell him about your latest trip, you mention your conversation with Jordan. Scott is quiet as he scoops up the little bit of sauce left in his bowl. Asks, “Is it still working for you? What we have?”

The answer is instant. “Yes.” It’s committed and casual all at once. It’s what you want, or maybe what you need, after the whirlwind of the life you’ve lived. It feels perfect.

But it’s not just you. So you return the question and relax in your chair when Scott smiles and assures you this is working.

That’s all that you need to feel settled.

—

Scott likes dating. It doesn’t surprise you that when he sees other people, he does the whole song and dance. He cooks for them, talks with them, woos them before taking them to bed.

He does that for you too and that’s why you really don’t care.

Dating isn’t something you particularly enjoy. Maybe it’s because you’ve never felt like you could do it “right.” You’ve always had a million and one things going on in your mind that sparing space for someone else felt more exhausting than enjoyable. 

You like being wined and dined yourself, but you don’t need it to be deep. You already have other relationships that make you feel whole.

—

You’re not sure how your mom finds out but she does and you can’t see the line of skepticism beneath her bangs but you know it’s there.

“This doesn’t sound very safe,” is one of the things she says eventually. “What about the future? You two can’t possibly carry on like this forever.”

“And why not?” you toss back, bullheaded.

What’s that saying? If you love something, set it free? Can’t anyone see that's what they’re doing? Are they really the only two who can see how beautiful it is that they can come and go and the fierce love that they feel for one another doesn’t change at all?

Your mom is quiet for a long moment. You think the conversation is ending there and you pick up your wine glasses so you can go refill them. You’ve only just picked up the bottle when she says, “Because your goals aren’t the same anymore. You’re both working towards two separate things.”

You know it’s true, but you think that you can have a lot more time with him first so you say, “I don’t think so.” You fill up your glass then go to your room.

You call Scott and tell him you love him and that you’re happy.

He says them both back.

—

The other people you see don’t hang around for long, usually just a one off. Scott is a repeat offender. It doesn’t bother you.

What does bother you is the fact that you’re together at the moment, and Scott asks if it would be okay if he took the day to see someone else. 

It breaks the rules that neither of you have explicitly stated. It rankles you more than you want to admit and he must notice because he takes your hand and asks you to come with. “She won’t mind,” he explains. “She knows you come first.”

You agree even though you already feel like you’re going to be a third wheel. 

You’re surprised to find you don’t feel that way at all. The conversation between the three of you flows nicely and you have fun. She runs her foot along your calf at the same time she touches his arm, leaning into him with a laugh. You think it’s an accident but she looks you straight in the eye and smirks.

You like her, you decide. And that’s before she kisses you at the end of the night, right after you give Scott a chaste kiss.

You still join them on dates every once in a while but you feel better about letting the two of them enjoy their time. You don’t ask, necessarily, if you can see someone else too, but there’s a silent question in your eyes when you’re about to step onto the other tour bus. 

You know he’s not completely okay with it, just like you weren’t at first, but Scott gives you a smile, a little nod. He claps his hand on your friend’s back before taking off towards a rental car.

It still keeps working. 

—

You don’t think it’s very good parenting to take a baby to such a loud arena but what do you know about parenting?

Scott is enraptured though, his smile so soft and bright as he allows the baby to wrap their fist around his index finger. He makes faces at the baby, asks questions to the parents. You just smile and feel the soft baby skin beneath your fingertip when you reach out to touch the chubby leg. 

You talk about it later that night, laying mostly on top of him in his bunk. “When do you want kids of your own?” you ask, quiet. You trace over the logo on his sleep shirt with one finger.

It is no secret between you two that he wants a family. You’ve known this forever it feels like.

You feel his fingertips press into your back, right along the knobs of your spine, drag to fit in between your ribs, curl to caress your hip. “Soon, I think.”

You nod but stay quiet. Your eyes close and you see that the clock has started its countdown.

“I’m sorry.” You can feel how genuine his apology is in the way the words fall over you, the hitch in his breath, the way he holds you tight enough that it should hurt but it doesn’t.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you say and you mean it. Loving Scott means wanting to give him everything he could want, even if it’s something you can’t give him.

You two fuck slow and quiet after that, in the cramped space of his bunk, your clothes pushed away but not off as the bus drives down the highway.

—

He wants to take you out on your next day off. 

A frown threatens your lips but you school it. “Okay,” you say, simple. You restrain yourself from asking why. 

Only Scott wants to have dinner at his parents’ while you’re close to home so you pick Scott. If Scott is an option, you’ll pick him any day of the week. 

He does frown when you tell him and you try to provide a balm. “We’re close enough that you could visit your folks too.” The smile you give him is the sweetest you can muster.

You tell Scott on the drive to Ilderton that you think you made a mistake deciding to sleep with someone you’re on tour with. “Ouch,” he jokes, hand going to his heart.

“Shut up,” you laugh and shove his shoulder. “I think he thinks it’s more serious than it is.”

Scott is silent, fiddles with the stereo. Then, “Wouldn’t serious be nice at some point?”

You can’t imagine anything serious right now. You’ve been serious your whole life. You could do with a little lightheartedness. Still you concede, “At some point. Maybe when I let myself go grey.”

“Tess…”

You bristle at the way he sounds sad. “Scott, no, you know I don’t need all that stuff to be happy.” And it’s true. You’re even thankful for the time you’re apart from him.

Therapists would probably have a field day with your aversion to relationships and you know your mother blames herself for it. But you already have a twenty year relationship under your belt and it was fantastic and beautiful and really fucking hard.

One all encompassing relationship is enough for now. 

Maybe you’ll feel different in the future but for now, you feel steady, secure.

“We want different things,” you tell him, a little sad.

He takes your hand and doesn’t let go of it the whole night.

—

Your time in the states feels like stepping into an episode of  _ The Twilight Zone _ . You two see Charlie and Meryl for the first time in years, skate with them, talk with them. You, Scott, and Charlie even go out for a beer together. It’s nice, a lot nicer than you ever thought it would be after Sochi, not that you ever really blamed them.

You also end up a hell of a lot closer to the new, steady presence in Scott’s life.

You fuck the two of them in the states, Scott and her. You’ve kissed her before, watched them, had her watch you two. But this is the first time you two touch each other, map out the differences between you. You can see why Scott likes her. 

Scott watches while you fuck her with two fingers, his own hand curling around his cock. You make him clean your hand when she’s cum. He watches while she eats you out, leaving kisses all along your chest before kissing her after you cum in her mouth. Then, the two of you stretch out on either side of his hips and take turns working him with your hands and your mouths. You only don’t let him cum because you’re not done with him yet.

The three of you stay up beyond late but it’s worth it, all of you exhausted and sweaty and the hotel room smelling like sex. 

When you wake up, it’s just you and Scott and you burrow into his side until you have to get up.

—

You know it’s coming and you’re okay with it, you are, but that doesn’t mean you’re not sad.

It hurts, a lot.

The first weekend you’re back home, you take the day to cry.

It’s not even the end yet.

—

“You want to break up?”

He sounds hurt and his jaw clenches so tight that you worry briefly he’ll chip a tooth.

“I don’t  _ want _ to,” you answer as softly as you can. He lets you take your hand and you give it a squeeze. “But I think it might be time.” You don’t know what she wants but you imagine she doesn’t see you as a permanent bedfellow, probably isn’t too keen on Scott always splitting time between the two of you. “If she’s willing to give you what you want, I think you should give it a shot… Have a proper go at it.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows hard. His hand holds yours so tightly it nearly hurts. But he nods. You can see in his eyes that he didn’t think it would be this soon, even though you both knew it was coming. “So, this is it?”

You can’t find it in you to say that you’re done, can’t mark it as the end even though you were the one to propose the idea. 

You kiss him and hope he gets it.

—

For one week, he stays at your house. Neither of you leave.

You fuck and you cook and you kiss and you watch TV. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he says against your skin on the fifth night. His thumb nudges your piercing and you card your fingers through his hair.

“Me too,” you sigh. You don’t frown even though it curls at your lips. “I love you.”

You think he might be crying against your stomach, your skin feeling wet, but his voice is clear as a bell. “I love you, too. Always.”

It is the sweetest, most reluctant goodbye you could ever wish for.

—

Your entire world doesn’t shatter.

It’s strange, to spend more time apart than together. You think it’s for the best. The better part of your life has been spent pretending to want Scott in all the ways a woman could in the ice and pretending you don’t know exactly what he feels like, tastes like, off it, yet you still can’t imagine being in a room with him and not kiss him. You’ve gotten entirely too used to it.

You decide to travel. You don’t invite your mother or your sister which makes your mom nervous. But you’re thirty and have yet to go to another country by yourself. You think being alone would be good. You go to a country you’ve never gone to before, a slight determination under your skin to make memories that Scott can’t touch.

You find a bookshop you spend five hours in, despite the fact that it’s the size of a shoebox. You find the most amazing baklava. You go to a nude beach and take off your top. You take a hike, your legs burning and sweat dripping down your back, but you watch the sunset from the top of the mountain and it feels worth it. You spend enough time in each place you go to make something akin to friends. There’s the man who made your coffee every morning. There’s the woman who added two extra flowers to your bouquet. The woman who lent you sunscreen at the beach. The man who gave you directions on your hike.

You pick up men, allow women to pick you up. You have some bad sex, but mostly it’s really good. You don’t even find yourself comparing them to Scott.

Back home, you settle in to this new reality of yours. Scott texts you first, a simple link to an article he thinks you’d like. A day or so later, you snap a picture of the fattest pigeon you’ve ever seen in Canada and send it to him.

He asks, once, after a few months, if you’re okay. It’s early, when he calls you, but then, he doesn’t know you’re in a different time zone. You take a deep breath. “Yeah,” you say, voice still full of sleep. “Are you?”

“It’s different,” he confesses. “But I’m okay… I’m happy.” You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear him say that.

You melt into the mattress and spend the next hour catching up properly. He tells you about coaching and Florida and what he and Jackie have been up to. You tell him about your travels your new deals, the date you went on two days ago.

When you hang up, you feel lighter.

Everything feels easier now.

—

Scott still takes your hand in his, kisses your temple.

You know he doesn’t love you any less.

Watching him walk off with her, you don’t love him any less either.

You’re still dancing with him, it’s just to a different beat.


End file.
